


The Lost Boys

by DreamAsIRead



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Character Death, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Haunted House, Mystery, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:30:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4571595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamAsIRead/pseuds/DreamAsIRead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian Wayne has never met his father. When his mother suddenly sends him to live with the man in Gotham, Damian is not exactly overjoyed. The large manor that is to be his place of residence doesn't resemble anything close to 'home'. His father is almost never at the manor and their butler soon becomes the only person Damian has any regular contact with. But it's not just the awkward relationship with his father that Damian has to deal with. Wayne Manor has a dark past and as Damian settles in, he may just find himself getting trapped in the web of secrets surrounding his new home.<br/>~Something wicked this way comes~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Damian lays eyes on Wayne Manor, he is ten years old, tired from his long flight, apprehensive about meeting his father for the first time, and already missing his mother. The dreary skies above Gotham City only serve to strengthen the melancholy in his spirit as Damian’s worries about Mother run in an endless loop inside his head.

Talia al Ghul had bid farewell to her only son at the departure gate of Heathrow airport with a distracted air and plastic smile. Damian still remembered the tangy citrus scent of his mother’s shampoo as she leaned in close to whisper in his ear, “Be good for your father, Damian. I will call as soon as I can to see how well you are settling in.”

Damian had noticed the imperfections in his mother’s usually perfectly made-up face, the untidiness of her dressing (scuffed sneakers, loose jeans and a pale pink T-shirt with a dark stain sitting on its sleeve), and the tightness with which she gripped his arm, all signs that something was not right. But Mother refused to tell him what was going on.

Damian didn’t want to go live with his father. In all his ten years of life, Bruce Wayne had neither visited nor shown that he even cared about the existence of his only son. Whenever his father came up in conversation, Mother would immediately become animated; describing Bruce’s kindness, his compassion, his generosity, his intelligence, all things that she claimed made her fall in love with Father in the first place. Considering they never married, and ‘Mr. Wayne’ hardly ever contacted them aside from his monthly child support cheques, Damian had to conclude that the relationship had probably been a one-sided one.

In truth, Damian was fine with the way things were. He didn’t need a father. He had Mother to take on both roles. There was no doubt Talia loved her son. She made sure he never wanted for anything, and took special care when it came to his education and development. All along it had been Damian and his mother alone against the world, and Damian was truly grateful, not to mention amazed at his mother’s remarkable tenacity in surviving as a single mother with no support and a young boy depending on her for everything. He had never expected to meet his father but that was fine. You couldn’t miss someone whom you hadn’t met.

But now Damian was about to meet him- the stranger that shared part of his DNA. Perhaps he should have felt more nervous about such a momentous occasion. However, all Damian felt was exhaustion from the long flight and he just couldn’t stop thinking about his mother. Why had she sent him away, and more importantly how long would he have to stay? Was Mother sick? Would she be alright? They were questions his mind could not answer but that didn’t stop them from repeating over and over in his head like lines of computer code filling up a black screen.

“Master Damian?”

Damian glances up. Pennyworth, his father’s butler is holding the car door open and staring at him with a mixture of pity and concern in his eyes. The old man had been the one to meet Damian at the airport instead of his father and Damian couldn’t help a small spark of anger. Was he not important enough for the great Bruce Wayne to venture out of his home? Would his father be delegating all of his duties to people he’d hired to do the job as caretaker to his only son? If the man hadn’t wanted this then why had he even allowed Damian to come stay with him?

Damian climbs out of the car laboriously. His muscles are stiff and sore after spending hours on the plane followed by another couple of hours stuck in traffic before driving out to his father’s manor house. He is already looking forward to bed where he can sleep and at least escape his worries for a little while.

As Pennyworth shows him into the foyer, Damian rubs his eyes to get a little of his wakefulness back. It will not do for him to meet his father while unprepared and end up looking like a simple-minded buffoon. Although he tells himself that he doesn’t care whatever Bruce Wayne thinks of him, Damian can’t help but want to impress his father when they meet for the first time.

Pennyworth starts up the stairs, beckoning for Damian to follow. It is only when he opens the door to a bedroom on the second floor that Damian realises he will not be meeting his father as he thought. He stares up at the butler, blinking as he tries to think of a way to phrase his question without sounding like a whining brat.

“Is my father- ?”

Pennyworth gets that look again- a look of pity and sadness as he shakes his head, saying, “Master Bruce thinks it would be best to allow you to settle in for the night. He will meet you for breakfast tomorrow, provided he does not have an early morning meeting, in which case, you will probably see him for dinner.”

Damian nods quietly but inside, he seethes. How could he? How could that man allow his only son to come all the way to America to live with him and treat his arrival like a triviality? It seemed like Mother had been wrong. Bruce Wayne was none of the things she had praised him for. From what Damian had seen so far, he was an uncaring father, a self-absorbed and selfish man.

All this while, Damian has been neutral in his feelings towards his father but as he climbs into bed on that first night in Wayne Manor, he is quite sure that he hates the man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the next minute, his entire body freezes as an icy pressure descends on his shoulder. It’s wet and clammy, and feels like a very tangible presence through his thin sleep shirt.

Damian wakes up to darkness and a sinking sense that something is not right. He remembers straightaway where he is- Wayne Manor. It seems like just a while ago that he fell asleep. A quick look at the digital clock on his bedside table confirms this feeling. It is three in the morning, barely two hours since he turned in for the night

  
The Manor is silent, as expected, and at first, Damian can’t figure out what it was that woke him up. Then it hits him. The silence that envelops the room- it’s a dead silence. He can’t hear any sounds from the night wildlife outside his window, which normally wouldn’t be surprising, but instead of the city, he’s in a semi-isolated Manor on the outskirts of Gotham with vast grounds and even a nearby forest, and Damian distinctly remembers being annoyed by the continuous chirping of crickets and even hearing the hoot of an owl just before he fell asleep.

  
Slowly, Damian sits up in bed and scoots backwards to lean against the headboard. He is careful not to make any loud noise. For some inexplicable reason, he gets the feeling that breaking the silence would be a very bad thing.

  
As his eyes adjust to the darkness, Damian can just about make out the blurry dark spots that make up the furniture in his room. Just as he’s trying to decide whether or not to go back to sleep, something moves just at the edge of his vision.

  
Damian’s head whips to the side rapidly, trying to catch sight of whatever it is. When all he sees is the set of a table and chair in the corner of his room, he lets out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding.

  
“Get a grip,” he mutters to himself, and fluffs up his pillow as he prepares to lie down again.

  
In the next minute, his entire body freezes as an icy pressure descends on his shoulder. It’s wet and clammy, and feels like a very tangible presence through his thin sleep shirt. Three whole seconds pass before Damian recovers enough to turn his head. His eyes are closed, as they have been ever since he first felt whatever it was come into contact with his body.

  
Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, he pushes up one eyelid and comes face to face with… nothing.

  
No longer feeling the pressure on his shoulder but still thoroughly spooked, Damian falls backwards onto his mattress and tucks the covers up over his mouth, leaving only a small section of his face uncovered.

  
It’s his first night in a new environment and he’s been extremely fatigued. Damian tries to convince himself that this was just his mind playing tricks on him. He closes his eyes and tries to fall back asleep by focusing on his breathing, something that has always been successful in calming him.  
Soon enough, Damian feels his body slipping into sleep. Even so, he can still sense a presence somewhere close to him. As he hovers on the border between wakefulness and dreams, he somehow hears the laughing voices of children ringing in his ears.

  
________________________________________

 

“Did you sleep well last night, Master Damian?”

  
Damian pauses for a moment, considers the cup of tea in his hand, takes a sip and replies, “Very well, thank you for asking, Mr Pennyworth.”

  
And it’s the truth. Aside from waking up in the middle of the night, Damian had experienced a most restful sleep. In fact, he was starting to wonder if that brief period of wakefulness had in fact, been part of a dream. Damian remember bits and pieces from last night- the uneasy dream-like silence, the cold feeling on his shoulder, and something involving children’s laughter.

  
He shakes off thoughts about it and asks, “Mr Pennyworth, where is my father?”

  
The old man doesn’t turn around from the sink as he answers, “Master Bruce had to leave early for a meeting. He said you are welcome to explore the Manor and its grounds, if you like.”

  
Damian frowns. He doesn’t particularly care, but he supposes he should spend some time looking around. It’s not like there’s anything else to do. Just as he’s about to leave the kitchen Pennyworth turns and calls for him.

  
“Master Damian, there are a number of locked rooms on the third floor. Master Bruce would prefer if you would leave those alone. There are plenty of other rooms though, and you are free to utilise any one of them. I am sure that you would enjoy the library too. We have quite a collection here at Wayne Manor.”

  
Damian grits his teeth. He has no problem with leaving those particular rooms alone. It is just the warning that his father deemed more important to pass on through Pennyworth, rather than a greeting, that irritates him to no end.

  
“Fine,” he says curtly before stomping up the stairs back to his room.

  
Before anything, Damian tries to call his mother, but the call fails to connect. He leaves a voicemail then grabs his jacket and heads off to explore his new home.

  
The first thing he checks out is the library. Pennyworth was right. It is very impressive, filled with shelves of books from floor to ceiling. There are books on practically every subject and Damian is actually a little overwhelmed. Not really sure where to start, he grabs a random book of a shelf- ‘Superstitions and Magical Myths’- and plunks himself down in a suitably plump armchair.

  
When Damian next looks up from his books, he finds that a number of hours have passed and it is already noon. He isn’t really sure whether to go in search of Pennyworth or wait for the butler to summon him for lunch. After a couple minutes dithering Damian decides he might as well go downstairs.

  
As he’s making his way out of the library, the unmistakeable sound of a child’s laughter stops him in his tracks. He stands, unmoving, by the large window looking out onto the yard. The grounds of the Manor are very obviously empty. The sun is hidden behind a clump of clouds, and the downcast sky looming overhead, sets a gloomy mood over everything.

  
Just as he’s about to dismiss the sounds he heard as his own imagination, it comes again. This time, the high chatter of a child’s amused laugh comes unmistakeable from what is probably a play room further down the hall.

  
Turning promptly on his heel, Damian moves determinedly towards the sound.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The child is obviously younger than Damian, around seven or eight years old, maybe. He has dark black hair and shining blue eyes. If Damian didn’t know better, he’d say they could be brothers.

The playroom is large and well-furnished. The walls are covered with a colourful paper with animal motifs. Toys are everywhere in the room and before Damian has a chance to get a closer look at them, he’s assaulted by a war whoop and hit by a dark figure rushing out from behind the shelf of books by the window.

“Yahoo!!!”

“What on earth…?”

The child is obviously younger than Damian, around seven or eight years old, maybe. He has dark black hair and shining blue eyes. If Damian didn’t know better, he’d say they could be brothers. 

“Hi,” he says, laughing out loud before turning around and doing a cartwheel around the room. “It’s a great day today!” he warbles, slightly off-key.

“Who are you?”

The boy jumps up and somersaults over to Damian, “I’m Dick. Hello. Do you wanna play?”

Damian’s eyes widen and he almost takes a step back, “What are you doing here?”

“Duh, I’m playing. Alfred’s busy so he can’t entra- enter, “his brow furrows in concentration, “- entertain? Yeah, he’s too busy too entertain me. Bruce said so. I’ve gotta keep myself occupied until lunchtime. We’re going to a party tonight, yuck.”

Bruce? That was Damian’s father’s name. Was there another child in the Manor he didn’t know about? Before he can ask any more questions, Dick apparently decides that Damian isn’t enough to keep his interest and bounds away to the side of the room where a table and two chairs are set up. He sits down and looks back at Damian, making an impatient beckoning motion with his hand.

Damian hesitates for a moment before crossing the room and settling into the chair across from Dick. Despite being the one to call him over, Dick doesn’t even look up when Damian sits down, instead focusing on the piece of paper he is drawing over with a crayon. 

Damian clears his throat uncertainly, “Do you- do you live here?” He doesn’t even know what he means by the question. Here- the play room. Here- the manor? The appearance of this strange child- who obviously knows his father well enough to call him by his first name- is throwing Damian off. 

Dick finally looks up at Damian. His brow furrows, “Of course I live here. What else would I be doing here?”

“Oh.” Damian exhales. “I wasn’t aware. Mr. Pennyworth never mentioned there was another child staying here.”

“Another?” Dick frowned, “What do you mean? It’s just me, Bruce and Alfred.”

Damian blinks. “Mother sent me here to live with my father. I’m Damian Wayne. Bruce is my father.”

Dick’s eyes widen, going almost comically round, “Whoa. Bruce is your dad? I didn’t know Bruce had a son!” He seems to get over his surprise in the next moment though as his gaze drops to the piece of paper he was previously colouring over. Damian catches a glimpse of something red, green and yellow before Dick folds it up and tosses it aside. 

“Let’s play hide and seek, “he says, standing up decisively. He shoots Damian a wicked grin and then is off like a shot, halfway to the door before Damian even gets out of his seat.

“Wait!” Damian rushes after Dick. He still has questions to ask the boy. He wants to know why neither his father nor Pennyworth thought it fit to inform him about the existence of another child in the Manor. 

He reaches the door just as Dick is turning the corner of the hall, the high sound of his exhilarated laughter trailing behind him. “Gotta catch me first, Dami!”

Damian wrinkles his nose at the nickname, but doesn’t stop running. He’s older than the other boy and should be faster, but Dick is like a little will-o-wisp staying just outside of Damian’s reach no matter how fast her forces himself to run. 

The two of them race through the hallways, through long corridors and expansive rooms with at least four different entrances. Damian hardly takes note of the decor around him; he’s so intent on catching up with Dick.

Eventually, he loses sight of the boy, and stops to catch his breath. Looking around, Damian realises that he’s entered a totally unfamiliar part of the manor. It isn’t really a surprise. Wayne Manor is large and Damian hasn’t really had a chance to explore much of it yet.

The walls in this part of the manor are bare of all decoration save for a few portraits of what must be his Wayne ancestors. Damian doesn’t much fancy being stared down by the portraits even if they are of his family, and carefully averts his eyes. The thick carpet muffles every step he takes and Damian suddenly feels very alone. It’s dark in the hallway; there are drapes obscuring any outside light, and the air inside is still, as if no one has opened a window in this part of the manor for a very long time. 

He shivers, hand coming up to grip his own forearms as he walks on. He reaches the end of the hallway and looks left then right, not sure which direction to turn to. He has no idea Dick might have gone and is just about to randomly pick when the sound of giggling stops him in his tracks.

Damian turns. The sounds are coming from a door on the left of the hallway. It’s slightly ajar, offering nothing but a glimpse into pitch-black darkness of the room beyond. 

As he stares at the door, the laughter sounds again, seemingly beckoning him forward. He has no doubt that Dick is probably hiding in that room. A smile creeps onto Damian’s face. He’ll win this game, see if he doesn’t. 

Damian steps towards the door, taking care to make as little noise as possible. He reaches for the door handle, ready to push it wide when the sound of his name stops him short.

“Master Damian!”

Pennyworth is standing at the end of the hall. Damian takes note of the flash of fear on his face that disappears to be replaced by strict disapproval. “Master Damian, I believe you were informed about the need to avoid the locked rooms on this floor.”

Damian blinks, “This is the third floor?”

Pennyworth’s expression softens, “Yes, Master Damian. In the west wing. How did you manage to wander here? I thought you were in the library on the first floor of the northside of the Manor.”

“I was just following Dick,” Damian says without thinking much about it. “Why didn’t you tell me there was another child living in the manor, Mr. Pennyworth?”

The colour drains form the butler’s face. “There is no one of that name living in the manor, Master Damian.”

Damian shakes his head, “Of course there is. Dick. He’s hiding in that room.”

Pennyworth is staring at Damian, the unsettled look still on his face. “Master Damian,” he says gently. “I think it’d be better if you came back to the kitchen with me now. It is past lunchtime but I’ve kept your meal warm for you.”

Damian feels a stab of impatience stab through him. “Look, I’ll just get Dick to come out, shall I?”

He turns back to the door but stops short before reaching for the handle again.

The door is no longer ajar as it was before. In fact, it’s shut tight with no sign of having been opened for a long time. The laughter he’d been convinced was coming from inside has also silenced. In fact, it has been silent ever since Pennyworth appeared.

“That door is locked, Master Damian,” Pennyworth says, “Please come with me now.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can’t help letting out a gasp when Jason turns back to him. The other boy’s face is angry. No, not just angry. It’s lit up with rage and frustration. “Damnit kid! Just fucking do what I tell you!”

Damian doesn’t quite manage to catch Pennyworth openly staring at him but there is an undeniable tension in the air. The butler doesn’t speak to him, which forces Damian to lunch in silence. Normally, he wouldn’t mind. But right now, silence is the last thing he wants to endure.

“Why was the room locked, Mr. Pennyworth?” Damian asks, “What’s in there?”

Pennyworth doesn’t change his impassive expression, “There is nothing of interest, Master Damian.”

Damian frowns and takes another bite of his food. He chews slowly, swallows, “It was open before. I know it was.”

The butler still doesn’t answer. Damian might as well be speaking to a statue. He lets out a loud sigh, “I’m not lying. I know the door was open. I heard Dick laughing in there.”

“As I said before, Master Damian, there is no one of that name living in the manor.”

Damian opens his mouth to argue but Pennyworth has obviously had enough of trying to refute his story, “My apologies, Master Damian. I must see to something in the kitchen.”

Damian glares at his back as he retreats. He screws his face up in attempt to mimic Pennyworth’s expression, “You’ve said that already.” He finishes with a scoff, “There is no one of _that_ name living in the manor.”

In the silence of the room, Damian’s voice echoes with a different inflection. There is no one of that name _living_ in the manor.

Damian stops short, his spoon held halfway to his mouth as the memories of the night before rush back at him. Specifically, the memory of a clammy hand resting on his shoulder. A child’s hand. And the sound of laughter. Very familiar laughter.

Damian is a very self-sufficient child. He has learned to take care of himself. Talia had always done her best, but as a single mother, there was only so much time she could make for her son while also working to support both of them. So her son had to get used to being on his own.

Now, alone in his Father’s home, save for the butler, Damian is distinctly uncomfortable at the thought of being alone. Mostly because he can’t be sure that he really is alone.

He can’t stop thinking about Dick- the boy whose existence Pennyworth has sternly tried to refute. Or maybe not. Pennyworth had been oddly specific in his choice of words. He had only said that there was no one of that name living in the manor. Was that a hint? Was the manor truly haunted? Or was everything the product of Damian’s imagination?

He would have tried to interrogate Pennyworth some more, but unfortunately, the butler had no intention of being found by Damian. He wasn’t in the kitchen, and after the day’s experience, Damian was unwilling to venture into any part of the unfamiliar manor on his own.

After some deliberation, Damian decides to explore the grounds instead. Spending time outside sounds a lot more appealing than wandering around in the manor. Especially now when Damian’s own mind seems determined to paint everything with a sinister air.

Unfortunately, the grounds of the Manor seem just as gloomy and overbearing as the building itself. It’s enough to depress anyone, what more a ten-year-old boy in a new country for the first time, and missing his mother acutely.

After some aimless wandering, always making sure to keep the Manor in his sights, Damian ends up standing next to a tall hedge. He can just make out the roof of the property next door, another large and opulent dwelling, but nowhere near as grand or as aged as Wayne Manor itself. Both dwellings are completely silent of course. You’d never be able to tell if anyone was actually living in either of the places just by looking.

The garden on Wayne’s Manor’s side of the hedge is perfectly kept, but dark and depressing as a contrast. There is a fountain near the hedge where Damian is standing, with a carved statue of a hideous creature, some kind of gargoyle, perched atop it. He studies the statue closely, grimacing. It really is extremely ugly.

The thought barely crosses his mind before a large black object slams into the carving at great force, smashing it off the fountain with an ear-splitting crash.

“Shit!”                                                                                                                                          

The expletive comes from behind him and Damian whirls around, coming face-to-face with another dark-haired boy. He’s around Damian’s age, but slightly taller, and is wearing a scowl in his face.

“Who the hell are you?”

Damian blinks then scowls back. He doesn’t think much of the other boy’s behaviour. Rudeness is absolutely intolerable, what more when the other boy is the intruder in Damian’s home.

But wait, Wayne Manor isn’t exactly his home. And he’s already experienced one encounter today with an intruder who turned out to be something else entirely.

“I’m Damian,” he says, a lot more wary than he would have normally been.

The other boy rolls his eyes, “Like I care. I mean, what are you doing in here, kid? This is private property y’know? You lost or something?”

Damian bristles. Ghost or not, he won’t allow this boy to condescend to him. “I am Damian Wayne,” he draws himself up to his full height (admittedly, not very much), “My father owns this property.”

The other boy snorts, “Right. Pretty sure Bruce woulda mentioned having a son.”

“Who are you?” Damian asks, exasperated.

“Jason Todd,” the boy offers easily, stretching his arms out behind him. He grins at Damian, “So, Damian _Wayne_.” Damian glares at the mocking tone. “You want to do something fun?”

Jason gestures at the remains of the shattered statue, “Help me clean this shit up before Alfie finds out, eh?”

“Why should I?” Damian finds himself retorting, “It isn’t my fault.” He squints at Jason. If he is a ghost, he is a very irritating one. Jason reaches out and punches him in the shoulder. Ouch.

He’s a very solid ghost, for that matter.

“Come on, kiddo. Don’t be like that.”

Damian growls a little at the name, “I don’t believe you’re very much older than I am, so you can stop with the condescending address.”

“Wooo,” Jason raises his eyebrows, “Looks like someone is a little grumpy.” He shoots a wicked grin at Damian. “Come on, I’ll show you something cool. Follow me.”

Damian ignores Jason’s beckoning hand. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Jason exhales. His face is turned away from Damian, but his words are still clear. “You’ll be sorry, if you don’t come with me.”

Damian narrows his eyes at the perceived threat. He scowls at Jason’s back. “No, I don’t think I will.”

He can’t help letting out a gasp when Jason turns back to him. The other boy’s face is angry. No, not just angry. It’s lit up with rage and frustration. “Damnit kid! Just fucking do what I tell you!”

There is a ringing in Damian’s ears. A rough wind blows at his clothes, and he feels a few drops of rain on his nose. It is suddenly too dark in the garden for the afternoon. Their surroundings look more like twilight.

Jason lunges, and Damian doesn’t have time to dodge. Both of them fall to the ground. They roll over and over. Damian hears a heavy ‘thud’, but he’s too disoriented to make any sense of it.

And all of a sudden the weight of the other boy on him is gone. The sun is back out and he is completely alone in the garden. Damian draws in a deep breath, but he doesn’t get up, lying sprawled out on the ground as he tries to get his bearings.

“Master Damian,” Pennyworth’s voice is grim, and his face, upside down from Damian’s position lying on the ground, is even grimmer. Damian sits up, quickly.

The garden is a mess. The grass is crushed from when Jason had pushed him down and wrestled with him, and the shattered statue is still in pieces on the ground. One last thing, there is a giant branch resting where Damian had been standing earlier. It looks to have broken off from the tree overhead. If he hadn’t moved, no, if Jason hadn’t pushed him, Damian would have been speared through.

He stares at the branch, and then transfers his staring to Pennyworth. “He said his name was Jason Todd,” he blurts out.

Pennyworth’s expression doesn’t change although there is a slight tightening of his mouth. “Please come inside, Master Damian. Master Bruce will be home soon. You should be cleaning up for dinner.”

Damian lowers his head. There seems to be no use trying to get anything out of Pennyworth. That’s alright. Tonight he will finally be meeting his father. And he will definitely be out for answers then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to think people who posted during exam week were lunatics. Well, I'm a lunatic too now, apparently. (Help me)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy by the window turns his face to Damian just as he reaches the side of his chair. With dainty, fine-boned features bathed in moonlight, this one looks more like a spirit than Dick or Jason had. Damian instantly dislikes him, purposely forcing his fear to turn into irritation, which is much easier to handle.

Damian is the first in the dining room, having shot out of his room the moment he heard Pennyworth’s bell. He takes the time before his father arrives to compose himself, settling into the chair and presenting the image of the perfect little gentleman his mother likes him to be.

His father enters not five minutes later. He doesn’t even glance at Damian at first, taking his own seat at the head of the table almost mechanically. Damian’s eyes narrow and he pulls himself up in his chair.

“Good evening, father.”

Bruce Wayne’s eyes turn to his son.

Damian notes with a shock that his own eyes are obviously inherited from his father. Any other time that revelation would have completely taken over his thoughts. But right now, he has more important questions to be asking.

“Good evening, Damian,” his father greets him in return. He says Damian’s name uncertainly, as if unsure whether he is uttering the right name. As if the name of his only son is something he is completely unfamiliar with. Damian pushes aside his hurt and annoyance at that assessment.

Pennyworth serves the soup. “So, father,” Damian winces a little at that. It does seem very strange to address Bruce Wayne as his father. In his private thoughts, his father rarely appears, and even when he did, in the past, Damian thought of him as ‘that man’, not without a healthy serving of disdain. “I have been looking around Wayne Manor.”

His father takes a sip of his soup, “Have you? That’s nice.”

Damian bristles. That’s nice? What is he? Five years old? He brushes aside his annoyance and tries again. “I came across a couple of rather strange things I’d like to ask you about, Father.”

Bruce’s expression doesn’t change. “You can ask Alfred anything, Damian. He has been working for the Waynes for decades, since I was a child, in fact. I daresay he can answer any questions you have.”

Damian doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s a very near thing. If he could get answers from Pennyworth, he wouldn’t _have_ to ask his father. Just as he’s about to try another approach, Bruce cuts him off.

“Speaking of that, Alfred told me he found you wandering on the third floor. After he told you specifically not to do exactly that.”

Damian flushes against his will. He’s never been spoken to like this before. When Talia scolds her son, she shows emotion. Damian knows his mother cares about him, and is trying to do right by him. When Bruce Wayne speaks to him, it is emotionless. Even if he is being reprimanded, his father hardly seems to care whether he takes heed of it.

“You are not to go against Alfred’s wishes again,” Bruce says drolly, “He is in charge of your wellbeing and you must listen to his orders. It will make things much easier throughout your stay. Do I make myself clear?”

Damian seethes and he doesn’t bother to hide his displeasure, glaring at the cold stranger that he is forced to call his father. He never thought that his first meeting with the man would dazzle him or otherwise revise his low opinions of his father, but he certainly hadn’t expected Bruce Wayne to drop so much further in his estimation.

“Why did you allow me to come to stay with you?” _If it’s so much of a bother as you make it out to be._

“Your mother asked me to take care of you while she deals with some issues with your grandfather.” was the surprisingly clear reply.

“Mother went to see Grandfather?” Damian asks, for a moment shocked out of his dissatisfaction. His mother is hardly close with her father. Damian has only met him a handful of times. He remembers a dignified figure from his sixth birthday. His grandfather had come by for a visit, but mother hadn’t been particularly happy about it. Damian had been given a present in a long rectangular box but mother had taken it away without giving him a look at what was inside.

“She never told me that.”

“Your mother does not need to consult you before making her decisions. She is the adult and she knows better. She thought you would be safer here with me than flying halfway around the world with her, and as long as you listen to Alfred, I’m sure you will have a pleasant stay.”

That statement is condescending enough to stir Damian’s anger, but he ignores it in favour of pondering the new information his father has just given him. His mother’s absence has to do with his grandfather. Before this, Talia has never kept secrets from her son. What else has she kept from him?

 

* * *

 

 

Damian finds it considerably harder to find sleep on his second night in the Manor than the first night. For one thing, he doesn’t have the force of jet-lag acting on his body. And for another, his mind is still running through his father’s revelation regarding Talia going to see his grandfather.

Not to mention he’s sleeping in a Manor haunted by any number of spirits, if his two otherworldly encounters of the day are anything to go by.

Lying down when he’s feeling restless suddenly seems like the most impossible torture of all. A small creaking sound as he pushes open his bedroom door has Damian cringing, but nobody comes running.

His heart still pounding with adrenaline, Damian starts to make his way down the hall. He has a vague idea of going down to the kitchen- milk might help him sleep- but is waylaid by the sight of light pouring out onto the landing of the first floor.

The brightness of the light chases away some of Damian’s sense of foreboding and he carefully makes his way along the hall towards the source of the light- the wide open library doors.

Just as he draws level with the open doors, the light shuts off with a suddenness that makes his heart skip a beat. Damian is completely blind as his eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden change. He can feel his breathing pick up. For a moment, he feels an urge to just curl up small and tight into a ball as he used to do when he was a child afraid of the dark.

“Damian.” An icy chill goes down his back at the unmistakeable sound of his name. But Damian grits his teeth. He is no coward. He shoves the slightly ajar doors open with his shoulder and quickly darts in before his fear can overtake him.

There is light inside the library- moonlight streaming in from an open window. A slim figure is sitting in an armchair by the window, its head turned away from Damian to stare out into the grounds. Damian can just see the top of the next-door property rising above the trees.

The silence around bothers Damian in a way that he cannot explain, crawling over him, pushing and pulling at his insides. He has a sudden urge to scream, to stomp and break something, to break the thick silence that hovers over everything like a fog. He half-walks and half-runs towards the figure in the armchair, suddenly itching with irritation. He is sick of this Manor and its ridiculous manifestations.

The boy by the window turns his face to Damian just as he reaches the side of his chair. With dainty, fine-boned features bathed in moonlight, this one looks more like a spirit than Dick or Jason had. Damian instantly dislikes him, purposely forcing his fear to turn into irritation, which is much easier to handle.

“If you’re another one of the ghosts in this stupid Manor, you can tell your friends to stop bothering me. I don’t care for it,” he says bitterly.

The other boy, a teenager (or a teenage ghost at least) by the looks of it, frowns, “I’m not a ghost.” His voice is low and clear, but bewildered-sounding.

Damian matches his frown, “Then what are you doing sneaking around in the library of Wayne Manor at night?”

“Wayne Manor?” The boy sounds even more puzzled. He casts a look around him, and turns back to Damian. “I must have fallen asleep. That’s strange. Mr Pennyworth usually wakes me when I do.”

Damian grabs onto that titbit of information, “So you know Pennyworth.”

The boy nods. He looks down at his lap and when Damian follows his gaze he sees that the boy is holding an open book. He holds it out and Damian takes it automatically. What little moonlight there is from outside illuminates the elaborate font of the title on its cover- “History of the Fae”.

“I’m Timothy Drake. I live next door.” Damian looks up. Timothy is gesturing out the window. “My parents know Mr Wayne, and he lets me search for books in his library sometimes. You have a lot more books here than I do back home.”

“And what are you doing asleep in our library in the middle of the night?” Damian asks, a little sharply.

For the first time, the blank expression of the other boy darkens. He glowers a little at Damian, “I told you, I must have fallen asleep. I meant to be home by dinner. What time is it anyway?”

Damian doesn’t answer the question. For one thing, he’s not wearing a watch so he has no idea. And for another, he’s just been distracted by the sight of Timothy Drake climbing up on the ledge of the window.

“What are you doing?” Damian hisses angrily at him. “You’re going to fall!”

Timothy grins back at him, “No, I won’t. That tree outside has branches growing over to my property. I’ve just got to jump to that branch and walk along the one next to it, and I’ll be able to land quite safely back in my own garden.”

“Are you an idiot?” Damian growls “Use the front door, for goodness’ sake!”

“It’s perfectly safe! Climb up, I’ll show you.” Timothy’s blue eyes glimmer in the moonlight and Damian finds himself wanting to take a step backwards at the invitation. The realisation creeps up on him. He does not trust this boy with his dainty features and pretty manners. There is just something not quite right about him.

“No, thank you. I’m not about to risk my neck just so you can prove a point, Drake.”

The older boy gives a little sigh laugh, “Not very polite, are you? Dick and Jason told me you wouldn’t be.” Damian freezes at the mention of those two names.

“Well, it was nice meeting you anyway, **_Damian Wayne_** _._ ” Timothy Drake releases his hold on the ledge, dropping out of the window like a stone.

Damian stands like a statue for a moment then manages to break out of his stupor and rush to the window. Timothy Drake is not standing on the tree branch he had pointed out earlier. The moonlight illuminates the grounds, empty of anyone, and Damian knows with a chilling certainty that he will find no traces of the boy anywhere.

Looks like he’s just met another one of Wayne Manor’s ghosts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s the Manor. The building. The grounds around it. Everything starts from down there,” Jason says quickly, his words almost running together in his haste. “I can’t say more than that. It’s part of the curse, see.”
> 
> “Curse?”

The chairs in Wayne Manor’s library are really very comfortable. Damian leans back, feeling himself sink into the soft cushions. The light streaming in through the window is very bright, typical of late morning sunlight. He can see dust motes drifting lazily in the air in front of him.

“Hey, kid. I can’t believe you’ve still got the time to be relaxing.”

Damian turns his head slowly. Jason Todd is perched awkwardly on the armchair to his left. He has a cheeky grin on his face but his tone gives away his unease. “Look, Damian. You’ve got to get it together. You can’t just go around being totally oblivious about everything here. It’s not safe.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Damian says. There is no anger in his tone, just pure bafflement and a hint of desperation. After everything he’s witnessed, he still has no clue what is going on. The strangeness of Wayne Manor- not to mention his ghostly encounters- are really starting to make Damian question his own sanity.

Damian looks around wildly. He and Jason appear to be alone in the room. The brightness around them is starting to hurt his eyes. Damian squints, and the edges of his vision turn blurry. When he forces his eyes to open fully, the blurriness remains.

Jason scowls. “I’m not as good at doing dreams as Dick is. Not much time, anyway.” He jumps down from his perch and moves closer. Damian leans further back in his seat.

“It’s the Manor. The building. The grounds around it. Everything starts from down there,” Jason says quickly, his words almost running together in his haste. “I can’t say more than that. It’s part of the curse, see.”

“Curse?”

Jason shakes his head rapidly. He opens his mouth but all that comes is a hacking sound. His face drops, resigned. “The answer has got to be in some of these books. Use the library. That’s how Tim found it. He was so close.” Jason’s expression turns dark.

Damian almost gives in to the temptation to ask him once again just what is going on, but Jason shushes him loudly. He turns his head to the side as if listening for something. When he looks at Damian again, his face is panicked. “I have to go.”

Despite this, he studies Damian’s face for just one moment longer. Jason’s own expression is grave, “Look kid, Tim was the smartest of us all.” He pauses, gritting his jaw, “You can’t trust him.”

Jason disappears and the light goes with him. Damian’s forehead hits the arm of the chair and his eyes open, for real this time. The library is filled with the blue-tinged light of early dawn. The window is still open and Damian shivers as he remembers the way the spirit called Timothy Drake dropped right out of it the night before. He has a flash of memory- the sight of coldly amused blue eyes, and resists the urge to cower.

_You can’t trust him._

* * *

 

 

Despite the fact that the library carries such an uncomfortable memory, Damian is back in there after breakfast. He’s given up on looking for answers from his father or Pennyworth. One doesn’t think Damian worth his time and the other is clearly unwilling to talk or ignorant about what is going on. Damian will find answers for himself.

It’s slow-going work, especially since Damian doesn’t really have a concrete idea as to what he’s looking for. He wants to scream in frustration, but something about the absolute stillness of the library has him loathe to making any sound. A familiar cover of a book has him reaching out before his mind truly registers what he is doing.

“History of the Fae” isn’t very thick. Bound in crimson, it’s small and almost fits in Damian’s palm. But it is heavy. Damian remembers the weight of taking it from Timothy Drake. He shivers, unable to resist the movement as a cold wind blows in through the open window.

Damian takes a seat on the same chair he had occupied before and carefully slides open the cover of the book. It isn’t what he was expecting. The book is a collection of old faerie tales. Most of the stories he has heard before in one incarnation or another. The one difference is these versions are noticeably darker with gorier endings than are typically told to children.

When he reads the story about a boy having his head chopped off and secured back on his neck with a handkerchief, Damian winces and shuts the book. He doesn’t see how any of those gruesome tales depicting the mischief wreaked on unsuspecting humans by fae creatures can be helpful. It’s not as if faeries are real.

But then again, a week ago he hadn’t believed in the existence of ghosts. Perhaps he truly is going mad after only three days or so living with his father. Bruce Wayne’s infuriating behaviour should be enough to drive anyone mad.

With his mind running all over the place, he’s unlikely to get any real work done. But Damian is quite aware of why his mind is in its current state, flitting all over the place and never settling on one idea for long.

He doesn’t want to think about what he’s experienced over the past few days. While it is true that his encounters with the three boys- ghosts- have been fairly ordinary so far, there is a sense that those occurrences were only the introduction to something more sinister.

There is a coldness to the Manor, but the sense of emptiness he’d felt when he first arrived is gone. Damian is still the lonely little boy he’d been when he’d first come to his father’s home. The only difference is now he knows that he isn’t _alone_.

The window slams shut with a gigantic bang, causing Damian to jump nearly a foot into the air. He glares in the direction of that particular window. The wind is howling outside and fat droplets of rain have started pelting the glass pane.

He almost misses it at first. The high-pitched yelps sound like they are coming from a wounded animal. Damian freezes in his seat. He knows from his past experiences that moving to find the source of the sound will only bring him an unpleasant encounter.

The lights in the library go out with a loud ‘pop’. The simple lamp on the table lights up slowly, spilling a warm orange glow that dimly illuminates Damian’s place, and the seat across from him. Timothy Drake’s cool blue eyes and lazy smirk are quite possibly the last things Damian wanted to see, but luck is not on his side.

Despite his wariness, Damian is able to note that the other boy is dressed casually in a dark long-sleeved shirt and black slacks. His hands are wrapped around an old camera. “I heard you had a visit from Jason.”

Damian scowls at him, but Tim seems undeterred. “He told you not to trust me, didn’t he? Jason can be such a bleeding heart sometimes. I suppose he thinks saving you can somehow make amends.”

“What are you prattling on about, Drake? I don’t have time for nonsense,” Damian snaps, channelling his anxiety into irritation.

Tim tilts his head and studies Damian. It makes the younger boy squirm, but he’s not about to let a ghost intimidate him. The returning glare from Damian is poisonous. Instead of looking annoyed or cowed or anything sensible, Tim smiles. It’s a cheerful smile at first then pulls up at the edges until he’s baring white, perfectly straight teeth in a mean expression.

“Jason might have mentioned he’s not particularly skilled at crafting dream messages. But I’m the complete opposite.” Tim practically snarls, “Did you know that nightmares are my specialty?”

The lamplight blows out and Damian is left in complete darkness. Before he can panic, a voice calls his name. “Master Damian? Are you in here?”

Pennyworth rounds the corner of a shelf with a torch in his hands and Damian has never been more relieved to see his father’s butler.

* * *

 

He’s running across the grounds with Wayne Manor looming behind him. The journals are held tight against his body and the camera on its strap bounces against his back as he runs. He chances a glance behind him every few minutes, but no matter how long he runs the Manor always seems to be almost the same distance away.

He wants to scream in frustration, but he can’t afford to stop. If he stops, he’ll be caught. He can’t let himself be caught. Not now. He looks ahead, panting desperately. The wall bordering the Wayne property is just in sight. If he can just make it there….

One mistake is all it takes. He feels his trainers knock into something bulging out of the ground, and he goes down hard. He rolls over; one hand patting the camera at his side to make sure it’s not damaged. Its fine, but the journals are scattered all over the ground. He crawls on his hands and knees, trying to gather them all quickly.

The kick to his side comes out of nowhere and winds him. His body flies, hitting a tree, and a loud crack at his side has his heart sinking. But his worry is overridden by pain when something heavy crashes into his ribs. He gasps, whimpering as sharp needle-like pains run along his chest.

“Aw, is the Replacement hurt? Come here and let’s have a look at it.” The voice chills his blood. Jason.

The name barely crosses his mind before he is being lifted up by the front of his shirt. The moonlight is bright enough for him to see his assailant’s face. But he doesn’t need to look to know the person who is pinning him against the tree. Jason’s hair is windswept and his blue eyes have a manic gleam to them.

And then his head is being slammed backwards. He flails like a ragdoll as Jason pushes him into the hard unforgiving trunk of the tree. As he slumps forward, he feels the warm wetness trickling down the back of his head to his neck, but is too disoriented to do anything about it.

The touch of cold steel under his jaw has him stiffening involuntarily. Jason’s entire body is pressed against him, pinning him back. A rough hand grabs his hair, pulling his head up. “Bye bye babybird,” is hissed against his ear.

The pain is excruciating. His body jolts in shock at the blood spurting out from the wound, but Jason has him held tight. He needs to scream, but when he opens his mouth it’s filled with warm iron. The taste is drowning him. More and more blood wells up, choking, strangling. He can’t breathe….

 

The scream spills out of Damian like a dam has been broken. He sits upright, unheeding of the tangled covers around him. All he can feel is the blood gushing up the back of his throat, choking him. All he can see is the crazed satisfaction in Jason’s eyes. All he can remember is dying.

Strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, but Damian doesn’t stop screaming. He can’t register the person beside him. The nightmare replays over and over in his head: the murder of Timothy Drake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please say you liked it?

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've mulled over for a long time. It actually came to me during the most boring driver's ed class ever when I tried to spook myself into alertness. Please tell me what you think.


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